Cinderella: Hired by the Prince

PROLOGUE

‘RAMÓN spends his life in jeans and ancient T-shirts. He has money and he has freedom. Why would he want the Crown?’

Señor Rodriguez, legal advisor to the Crown of Cepheus, regarded the woman before him with some sympathy. The Princess Sofía had been evicted from the palace of Cepheus sixty years ago, and she didn’t wish to be back here now. Her face was tear-stained and her plump hands were wringing.

‘I had two brothers, Señor Rodriguez,’ she told him, as if explaining her story could somehow alter the inevitable. ‘But I was only permitted to know one. My younger brother and I were exiled with my mother when I was ten years old, and my father’s cruelty didn’t end there. And now… I haven’t seen a tiara in sixty years and, as far as I know, Ramón’s never seen one. The only time he’s been in the palace is the night his father died. I’ve returned to the palace because my mother raised me with a sense of duty, but how can we demand that from Ramón? To return to the place that killed his father…’

‘The Prince Ramón has no choice,’ the lawyer said flatly. ‘And of course he’ll want the Crown.’

‘There’s no “of course” about it,’ Sofía snapped. ‘Ramón spends half of every year building houses for some charity in Bangladesh, and the rest of his life on his beautiful yacht. Why should he give that up?’

‘He’ll be Crown Prince.’

‘You think royalty’s everything?’ Sofía gave up hand wringing and stabbed at her knitting as if she’d like it to be the late, unlamented Crown Prince. ‘My nephew’s a lovely young man and he wants nothing to do with the throne. The palace gives him nightmares, as it gives us all.’

‘He must come,’ Señor Rodriguez said stiffly.

‘So how will you find him?’ Sofía muttered. ‘When he’s working in Bangladesh Ramón checks his mail, but for the rest of his life he’s around the world in that yacht of his, who knows where? Since his mother and sister died he lets the wind take him where it will. And, even if you do find him, how do you think he’ll react to being told he has to fix this mess?’

‘There won’t be a mess if he comes home. He’ll come, as you have come. He must see there’s no choice.’

‘And what of the little boy?’

‘Philippe will go into foster care. There’s no choice there, either. The child is nothing to do with Prince Ramón.’

‘Another child of no use to the Crown,’ Sofía whispered, and she dropped two stiches without noticing. ‘But Ramón has a heart. Oh, Ramón, if I were you I’d keep on sailing.’